Mother Dear
by PennyStarling17
Summary: "To Sam Winchester, the word 'mom' was associated with an old photograph and a bottle of liquor." Sam spends most of his life thinking about what Mary means to his family and what she means to him.


"But there's a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother's story, because hers is where yours begin."

-"For One More Day", Mitch Albom

* * *

Mary Winchester loved her little family more than anything else in her life. She was madly and deeply in love with her husband, adored her children more than life itself. She was a fantastic mother, singing 'Hey Jude' to help her boys get to sleep at night, making tomato rice soup when Dean was sick, and making supper every night to the best of her abilities.

She dreamed of watching her boys grow up and maybe having another baby. (John had once said that he wanted a daughter.)

But her dreams are snatched away by the flames that lick at her broken and bleeding body as her husband screams her name.

She doesn't know it yet, but those flames also steal any hope of a normal life for her son as well.

* * *

To Sam Winchester, the word 'mom' was associated with an old photograph and a bottle of liquor. She was the reason his dad got stupidly drunk every November 2nd and stone cold every May 17th. She was the reason his brother couldn't commit to a woman, too afraid to have her ripped away from him the way Mary was.

She was the reason they were constantly on the move, never settling down in one place long enough to make friends.

Sam loved her -how could he not?- but he hated what her death had done to his family.

* * *

Blind faith was not Sam's style. He may pray to God every night, but it was hardly ever for himself. It was for his dad and his brother, out there fighting to keep the world turning and civilians safe. He didn't expect anything to come out of it either, but he wanted to cover all of his bases, just in case.

He wasn't like Dean, who followed their father's orders without question. Sam questioned and fought every order given. He needed a reason to fight the monsters in the dark and the constant 'we're avenging your mother,' echoing in his head wasn't enough. An old photograph and a bottle of liquor wasn't a reason to give up his life.

And that was all Mary Winchester was to her youngest son: an old photograph and a bottle of liquor.

Sam tries not to let that bother him too much.

* * *

Mary was an idea that his father and his brother were racing towards.

Stanford was the idea that Sam was racing to.

The idea of Mary wasn't worth giving up the life Sam always dreamed of having. The white picket fence and 2.5 children American dream. A life where he doesn't have to pray every night that his dad and brother would come home alive.

So he left, ignoring the betrayal in Dean's eyes and the anger in their dad's, ears ringing with John Winchester's ultimatum:

_"If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back."_

So he walked out the door and he didn't plan on coming back.

* * *

Mary Winchester was a bedtime story and nothing more. She was an unreachable figment, floating in the background of their lives. She was the beautiful, shinning hope in John and Dean's eyes, lighting the way to their revenge. She was what kept the two of them fighting.

But Sam never had Mary, he would never remember her voice as she sang 'Hey Jude' in his ear or the way she tucked him at night.

Sam could only remember the way Dean sang 'Smoke on the Water' when he woke up from a bad dream, could only remember that he had been raised by Dean; Dean who was his big brother, his father, mother, best friend, and closest confidant.

Dean, who refused to speak to him after he ran away to Stanford.

* * *

Mary was beautiful, the old photograph captured her smiling face and sparkling blue eyes. Sam imagined that, if she had been alive, she would be proud that he had gotten a full ride to Stanford. She would have beamed and hidden her tears, brushing his hair out of his eyes and she would have told him, in a choked up voice, "I'm so proud of you, Sam."

He ignores the tears welling at the thought of it.

_She's not proud of you, Sam. _He tells himself firmly. _She's dead._

It doesn't make him feel any better.

* * *

He lives a lonely existence, far away from his dad, his brother, and everything he had ever known.

Until he met Jessica Moore.

Beautiful, kind Jessica. Funny, sweet, sarcastic, and witty, she was everything good in his new bleak and lonely life at Stanford.

She never noticed the way Sam looked at her, as though the world kept spinning and the stars kept twinkling only because she wanted them to.

And on a not so special night, she woke up to an empty bed and walked into a reunion between two estranged brothers.

She encourages Sam to hurry back and watches them leave until the tail lights disappear into the night.

* * *

"Even if we do find the thing that killed her, mom's gone and she isn't coming back."

Dean slammed him into the side of the bridge and gave him a hateful look. He snapped, "Don't talk about her like that."

(Dean knows it's the truth, but it doesn't make it hurt any less.)

* * *

Sam lies down to go to sleep and feels something drip onto his face.

He looks up and screams.

* * *

He had always wished he had a reason to fight like his dad and his brother did.

He just wished it hadn't been _this_.

* * *

Late at night, Sam wakes from a nightmare, the sight of Jessica burned into his mind and his mother's screams ringing in his ears.

Lucifer laughs from beside him. "Well, Sam," he taunts. "Looks like it's just you and me."

* * *

Suffering through the trials, Sam wishes Anna had been able to make sure he had never been born. Then Mary and Jessica would still be alive.

He rolls over and buries his face in his pillow, ignoring the throbbing in his heart that tells him that even if the trials get rid of the demon blood, they will never erase the fact that his mother and the love of his life are dead because of him.

* * *

The years go by and, slowly, Jessica Moore becomes an old picture and a bottle of whiskey.

And Sam will never forgive himself for letting that happen to her.

* * *

_"So, come home soon, ok? I love you."_

* * *

Unbeta'd. Please review!


End file.
